I'm watching this doc on Netflix about murder-by-torture of a little boy in Los Angeles, thinking - if this was fiction, nobody would buy a script like that's it's just total overkill. Like five different terrible lives happened to the same one boy. You mean he was stabbed AND strangled repeatedly? He had to sleep in a cubbie AND he was fed cat litter? He had a broken skull AND broken ribs that he had to pretend weren't there while going to school? He was shot with BB guns AND had his teeth knocked out? The trial is not so much about the parents as it is about the social workers and the sheriff's office who knew and did nothing and why was that case noting special until some random media outlet picked it up, but I haven't gotten that far in yet. So far I'm just watching and thinking: what a cheesy script, there's no way anyone would find this realistic. I forget how fucked up people can be. 

Kissing (and teeth, but mostly kissing)

As everyone knows, I am a super kissy person. For all the good sex, I can kiss for hours on end and not just mouth to mouth - I sometimes pick a part of G's body and nuzzle against it with my lips and eyelashes for ages, like a knuckle or a side of his waist or something entirely random. Nothing erotic about it. He may as well be asleep or read or watch a film. It is no wonder that prostitutes charge more for kissing, because if you're not feeling it, there is really no way to sell it. There is a scene in a movie I am very fond of called Dear Frankie, where the two main characters stare at one another for a really long time and it is obvious they both want to kiss and will not for many reasons, and it is not until she makes for the smallest move forward that he moves, too. It is so deeply respectful and hopeful and kind. So much hope in that little gesture of allowing someone so close, allowing yourself to be connected to another human being. (Sad movie, but it does end optimistically, even for the adults. Likely the only movie I like Gerard Butler in.)

I spoke with a friend about how it feels to have a dentist touch my mouth - the word I used was gynecological. It is really, really invasive and private, having someone's latex-clad fingers in my mouth, hurting my lips and stuffing cotton into my cheeks. Other doctors don't bother me, not having blood drawn or having to take off my shirt or being weighed and measured or have my precious eyes checked. I can totally daydream through being touched by strangers on those occasions; they're just unpleasant, not really intrusive. Touching my mouth, though. I think half the energy I burnt though in that chair is suppressing the gag reflex. It's necessary, because I keep coughing and choking and spitting up and ruining his work. But it happens a lot. And for the rest of the day, my mouth is off-limits. 

Some new stuff soon to be ready ... :) Glimmer glamour shimmer shammer

Found old farm ruins

... while the boys were fixing a boar-plowed meadow, I rummaged around the woods and found this old farmstead, abandoned after a fire. Back in the day, in school, we were encouraged to sketch out the layout, the interesting details, try to guess who lived here, what did they do, what happened, why was the place not restored ... The main building was too damaged and overgrown to measure (if you didn't have the measuring tape, you were supposed to kind of use your feet one in front of another to get the basic distances), but the secondary domicile was padlocked and better preserved. Still, 30 years in this climate is too long for any building to remain once the vines take off the roof and the roof gives. 

Bars on the windows were slightly decorative. Both the fact there were bars and that they were nice indicates better off housing. 

I don't know yet what this was, some kind of strain or press, either for carpenter work or making barrels? 

Melted bottles indicate fire. You see them often in ruins.

The second building.

A very nice door on the second building.

Remains of the wine press.

Remains of the large barrels (500 liters?)

?

Don't you just hate it when you're getting ready to tell everyone you had to see a dentist about a filling and someone else (a young father of two small kids, no less) says: Ye, my wife's doing fine now, they removed one of her kidneys, but the other one is working just fine...

I mean. It's kinda hard to convince the crowd your week sucked after that one. Being a drama queen is nowhere as easy as people think. 

Eleven in the evening ... it's still a little hard to eat, but the General brought me a small chicken cheeseburger and I snorted that juicy crunchy salad bitch like it's the last cheeseburger in the world.  (Have to cut it up first, but okay. Small steps.) Now the bliss of carbs is washing over me and I am slowly forgetting my cabbage ball hurts. In a few minutes, I will be sleeping next to G, who has a little bit of a cold and is (consequently) snoring like an oversized bumblebee stuck under a plastic bucket. The vibrations are so soothing. He's really warm, too. I sleep with my damaged cheek pressed to his side tummy.

I've mulled through about thirty paints, still about a dozen to go. Sleepy a little and tired a lot. Little bit of morbid thoughts. Probably shouldn't be watching Dead Like Me. :D Wrote a 'if you're reading this, I am dead as fuck' letter to G, but it's just shit he already knows fifty times over.

If there are almost 700 infected people on Diamond Princess and the novel coronavirus has a 2.6% mortality rate on average, how come nobody died? Like, at all? 

Well. So that's root canal.

Now I know.


Fuck me.

Whether it was the half-opened window or the fact the Korant banished the winter over the weekend, but I woke up today to brilliant sunshine and spring birds singing. 

Not sure how familiar the rest of the regions are with the Kurant, he used to be an old god of loud party and screwing, but that is a scary pack of men dressed in an elaborate monster costume, wearing many very large cowbells, jumping and dancing and making a tremendous noise. Their job is to scare winter away. They also scare most of everyone else. 

Alas the costume is too expensive and the effort far too strenuous to go at it half-heartedly, otherwise I would have encouraged the General to join the group long ago. They are erotic as all.